Phoebe nodded. The fire popped and crackled behind them. Whatever spell Harriet had been weaving, he had managed to break.
All the more reason to keep my distance.
CHAPTER 11
Do not disappoint me.Theodore’s warning echoed in Harriet’s mind as soon as she had turned to see him standing behind her. His brow had been furrowed in disapproval that had only deepened when she had suggested she might read to Phoebe.
“Perhaps, Your Grace, it would be best if I took Phoebe to bed?” Mrs. Morton lowered her gaze deferentially as she swept into a curtsey. “As you say, it is late, and she has lessons in the morning.”
Harriet saw Phoebe flinch, her eyes apparently glued to the floor. The girl’s shoulders sagged, and Harriet had to resist the urge to pull her close to her. She suspected that would be too much for the little girl.
She could feel Theodore studying her, waiting for her to make her next move. She took a breath, ignoring the bead of sweat trickling down her neck.
“Of course. Would you like me to walk with you?” She addressed the last to Phoebe.
The girl glanced up and nodded once. Harriet smiled. “Good, that will give us a chance to chat a little more.”
Mrs. Morton nodded curtly, falling into step beside Phoebe and Harriet. She half hoped that Theodore would not follow them, but he did.
Harriet tried to hide her nerves as she straightened, ignoring the way her words echoed through the hall as she tried to engage Phoebe in conversation.
The girl glanced up every now and then, staying close to her but not saying a word. Harriet tried to hide her disappointment – she suspected it would only make the situation worse.
“Is this your room?” Harriet asked as they stopped outside of a wooden door.
Phoebe nodded and took a step away, moving towards the door.
“Thank you for your company, Phoebe.” Harriet knelt down so that she and the little girl were eye level. “I will see you tomorrow.”
Phoebe chewed her lip, but did not say anything. Harriet could see Mrs. Morton’s lips thin. She sensed that the governess wasabout to ask Phoebe to say goodnight, to remind her of her manners. Harriet gestured to the door.
“You go to bed. You will need to be well rested.” Harriet stood and inclined her head towards Mrs. Morton. “Good night, Mrs. Morton. Sleep well, Phoebe.”
“Good night, Your Grace.” Mrs. Morton curtseyed and ushered Phoebe through the door, closing it behind her.
It was then that Harriet realized that she and Theodore were alone in the corridor. She waited for a reprimand, tensing as she turned to face him. His face was entirely in shadow.
“I think that went well?” Harriet wished it did not sound like a question as she took a step away from Phoebe’s door.
Theodore said nothing. She could not tell if that was a good sign or a bad one; his face was half in shadow. She glanced up and down the corridor. “Though I probably should have asked Mrs. Morton where my rooms are.”
“I will show you.” Theodore gestured vaguely in the opposite direction from where they had come. “They are not far from here.”
Harriet fell into step beside him, stopping as they approached a wooden door down the hall. It was several yards from Phoebe’s rooms. Theodore opened it and gestured inside. “Your rooms. The servants will have brought everything you need for you andI expect your lady’s maid will be waiting in your bedroom to help you prepare for bed.”
Harriet glanced from Theodore to the room. There were no other doors on the landing. Her heart crept closer to her throat, and she tapped her fingers against the fabric of her dress.
“And what… What about…” The words stuck in her throat. “What about you?”
Theodore’s mouth twitched. “These quarters are for you, not us. I have my own in the East Wing.”
But this is the West Wing.Her confusion must have been clear on her face because Theodore added, “These rooms will allow you to be close to Phoebe. If she has need of you in the night or anything like that, you will be able to find her easily.”
She peered into the room. It was illuminated by the flickering light of candles, showing her a chaise longue in an antechamber and another door that she suspected led to her main bedroom. They were spacious, larger than anything on her father’s estate, but they felt empty.
There was a coldness to them even though a rush of warmth from within told her that the fire in the hearth had only recently gone out. “And if she has need of you?”
“She will not.” Theodore’s voice was low and firm.
